


Visit

by castieldeansangel



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castieldeansangel/pseuds/castieldeansangel
Summary: In which Beth Harmon did go back to see Mr. Shaibel because I think it was pretty sad that they didn't get to see each other again
Relationships: Beth harmon & Mr. Shaibel
Comments: 43
Kudos: 324





	Visit

The passenger door closed with a thump. Beth looked up at the imposing building she once called home. It looked as sad as it ever did. The 19th-century Renaissance-style castle stood with its large medieval European-like tower, its paint graying and marred with dirt spots. At the door, she saw a little girl arriving with a light blue dress and a small suitcase after losing everything she knew. Then, she saw the same girl, years later, spying on a young couple making out meters away. She blinked and the little girl was gone.

“Are you going in?” Mrs. Wheatley asked softly, standing on the other side of the car.

She turned to look at her and nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Her mother offered gently.

Beth took a deep breath and remembered watching a couple from that one window and receiving a warm smile from someone who would change her life by offering a home and love she’s never dreamt of receiving.

“No, I’ll go.”

Her mother smiled and reopened the car door to wait inside.

Beth squared her shoulders before walking to the entrance. She moved to open the door, but it was jolted open from the inside and a bunch of little girls in similar dull dresses came running out. A familiar voice from the inside called at them to stop but it was too late, the girls had already scattered around. Beth found herself standing in front of Mrs. Deardorff. She looked much older than she expected, with graying hair, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and a cane on her right hand. The woman squinted at her, taking in her appearance before yelling;

“And you, young woman! Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Beth gaped and looked down at herself. She was wearing a black and white dress, which was quite different from the usual clothes worn in the orphanage. Then, she noticed the slightly lost look in Mrs. Deardorff’s eyes and smiled.

“Of course, I’m sorry madame.” She said before walking inside. The woman gave her one last look before leaving the building and closing the door behind her.

Beth heard the dulcet notes of children’s singing and turned away from the sound. She walked the familiar path to a small unsuspecting door beside a staircase and grasped the door handle. She tried it and sighed in relief when it opened.

Her heels clicked against the wood as she took every step carefully, trying not to run down the stairs in her rush to see him again.

When she finally reached the bottom, she looked to her right and saw Mr. Shaibel through the gaps of the shelves. The man was staring at her from the top of his newspaper and Beth couldn’t fight the grin that spread across her face. She walked closer until she was on the other side of the small table she once sat for hours on end playing with this man who gave her the best gift she would ever receive. Beth looked down at the newspaper on Mr. Shaibel’s hand and her eyes widened when she noticed a picture of herself in Las Vegas. A wave of shame cursed through her body and her cheeks heated with the thought that Mr. Shaibel was reading about her defeat. That he knew she was a loser.

Something to her right called her attention and she gasped when she saw it. There were newspaper clippings of her along the years. Her meetings at the local high school, her win at Cincinnati, that first chess tournament she played with the money she borrowed from Mr. Shaibel, attached to the letter she sent asking for the money. She had to blink back tears when she reached a picture of a serious kid with an odd haircut standing beside an old man, with a chessboard on the table by the side. 

She gulped and looked back at Mr. Shaibel. The man let out a breath before looking down to place the newspaper on the floor beside him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked at the table.

“I owe you money.” She said faintly.

He looked up at that, “You here to pay?”

“No,” She answered, taking the chair out to sit down, “I’m here to win it back.”

A tear fell from Mr. Shaibel’s eye, though he didn’t seem to notice as he smiled. He nodded and reached down to take the chess set.

**Author's Note:**

> There, the itch has finally been scratched.


End file.
